


Let's Quit Sunday School

by Busybee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas and Anna are twins, High School AU, M/M, Punk!Dean, mildly nsfw, nerd!cas (for lack of a better word), so far - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Busybee/pseuds/Busybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak comes from an extremely religious background. Gold cross, confirmation, church every Sunday.<br/>Dean... Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Monday mornings suck.  
Cas can be as academically centered as he wants, but even he has to admit that getting out of bed at six in the morning to go to a prison of lockers and jocks and textbooks is not highest on his want-to-do list.  
He rolls out of bed, scrabbling around on his nightstand for his glasses. Not that they help much, because he literally can’t keep his eyes open.  
Someone knocks on his door.  
“Castiel?” his mother calls through the door. “Are you up?”  
“Urgh,” Cas grunts as a reply.  
“Answer me properly, Castiel.”  
“Yes. Yes, I’m up.”  
“Good. Your breakfast is in the kitchen. Say your prayers before you come down. Hurry.”  
He hears his mother’s sensible beige high-heels click down the corridor, presumably to check that his sister is awake. Cas gets up and crawls into the bathroom.  
He only realizes that he’s fallen asleep in the shower when his sister hammers on the bathroom door.  
“Cas! Get out of there, you’re taking forever! I need to shower!”  
Cas starts, turning off the water.  
“Sorry,” he mumbles as he slips out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Anna, her arms crossed and slippered foot tapping, simply raises a disapproving eyebrow and goes in to the steamy room, slamming the door behind her.  
Cas says a quick good-morning prayer, _Thank you for my house and my mom and my sister even though she's annoying,_ and gets dressed in his school uniform: navy slacks, pressed white shirt tucked in, the school vest over it, his tie straight and perfectly knotted. People tease him about the neatness of his uniform (“people” including his own sister, who hikes up her skirt and untucks her shirt as soon as she’s out of the car), but he likes it neat. Even when he rolls his sleeves up in the summer, he does it with meticulous care, making sure not to get a single crease in the fabric.  
Anna comes downstairs while he’s eating his usual breakfast oatmeal. His mother, in her beige skirt and matching beige jacket and beige _everything_ , is already making phone calls to important people. She motions to Anna to hurry up and eat. Cas is already putting his empty dishes in the dishwasher.  
“Anna, we’re _late_ ,” their mother chides, which isn’t technically true. Usually, the Novak twins are delivered at the school gates a good half hour before school actually starts, because their mother needs to be in the office before 7.45. So they’re actually still a good twenty-five minutes early. Cas doesn’t say anything, though. Anna rolls her eyes.  
“I’m only late because this one was taking freaking _forever_ in the shower,” she says, tilting her head in Cas’s direction.  
“Anna, don’t curse,” is all she gets in response.  
By the time all three of them have piled into the Novak’s silver Honda, things are a little tense. Cas pulls out his History textbook and starts taking notes, ignoring his mother and his sister squabbling.  
“We don’t have a test ‘till Thursday,” Anna says, leaning over to see what he’s doing. Cas just shrugs.  
“Did you say your prayers this morning?” their mother calls from up front.  
“Yes,” Cas and Anna mumble together. Cas knows Anna is lying; he sees her grab the golden cross around her neck and mutter a quick prayer under her breath. _Thank you, Lord, for all that you have provided and for a beautiful new day. Amen._  
Anna never really was one for deep prayer.  
The school at 7.30 in the morning is generally pretty empty. Most kids arrive at ten to eight, which is when Cas leaves his spot in the library to go to his homeroom class. Quite a few arrive at ten past. But at seven-thirty, Cas has the whole library to himself.  
Well. Himself and Anna, who today spends all of his precious twenty minutes complaining about the fact that they have to be there so early.  
“We could just get up at freaking seven,” she grumbles. “Like everyone else. But _no_ , the Novak twins have to be here at seven-fucking-thirty.”  
“Don’t curse, Anna.”  
His sister gives him an incredulous look.  
“You know,” she snaps, “you could really do with pulling that stick out of your goddamn ass.”  
She slams her book shut and gets up, marching out of the library, long red hair swinging as she walks. Cas sighs. People are starting to gather in the library, chattering and scrambling to finish last-minute homework. Cas packs away his books and gets up, intending to go put some stuff in his locker before school starts. He can feel his patience fraying from what’s turning out to be an awful start to what will no doubt be another awful week –  
Someone knocks into him as he walks, and all four of his textbooks tumble out of his hands, scattering papers and notes everywhere.  
“Hey!” Cas cries, kneeling down to gather everything up again.  
“Oh shit, sorry, hold on -,” the person kneels down and tries to help him. “Here,” he says, handing Cas a stack of papers. “Sorry, I didn’t – hey, don’t I know you?”  
Cas starts. Because he has no idea if this person knows Cas. But Cas certainly knows _him_. It’s Dean Winchester, from his World History class. Dean Winchester, who is constantly in detention for one thing or the other. Dean Winchester, who deliberately ignores the uniform rules, wearing his shirt untucked with the sleeves haphazardly rolled up, the tie loose and crooked. Dean Winchester, who apparently once got caught having sex with the football captain in the locker room and got suspended for almost a month.  
Dean Winchester, who is still holding out a stack of papers and starting to look a little concerned.  
“What?” he drawls, raising a pierced eyebrow. “You want me to re-categorize them first, or something?”  
“I didn’t have them categorized,” Cas mumbles, even though he _did_. He had carefully organized the notes by subject and date, and it’s going to take forever to sort them out again. He takes the papers and gets up, textbooks back in his arms. Dean grins.  
“Sure you didn’t. Anyway, I gotta run. Be a little more careful next time, yeah?” Dean pats Cas on the shoulder and walks off, leaving Cas blushing a little and for some reason with an elevated heartbeat.  
The rest of the day progresses just as well. Anna doesn’t talk to him all day, his Maths teacher decides to give the class a pop quiz, and in English they are assigned a 2,000-word essay, MLA format, on chapter twelve of _The Grapes of Wrath_. By lunchtime, Cas is so fed up he doesn’t even want to eat. Usually he has his lunch with his sister and her friends, but since Anna is mad at him, and since he doesn’t really have any other friends, Cas skips the food to go study in his World History class, which is the last class of the day. The bell rings, people start filing in, but the teacher is still absent, so Cas keeps the book open despite the hum of noise around him. He’s just gotten to the finer details of the Russian revolution when someone casts a shadow over the page.  
“I _knew_ I knew you from somewhere!”  
Cas looks up. Dean Winchester is standing in front of his desk, grinning triumphantly at him. Cas smiles back weakly. He fights a sudden urge to run out of the classroom; it’s suddenly gotten a little claustrophobic. Dean tilts his head to one side. Cas notices that his eyes glint in the change of light, and looks down.  
“Don’t say much, do ya?” Dean says thoughtfully. “What’re you studying for, anyway? Don’t you have the top marks in the whole school or something?”  
Cas shrugs, feeling a blush creeping up his face.  
“I like being ahead of material,” he says, avoiding Dean’s eye.  
“Huh.” Dean sprawls out in a chair behind another desk. “Well, whatever. To each his own, I guess. Don’t see why you bother, though, Mr. Douglas gives us all the notes before each test anyway.”  
“Is that a complaint, Mr. Winchester?” Mr. Douglas asks, walking through the door right that minute. Dean, completely unfazed, grins at him.  
“Not at all, sir. Wouldn’t pass your class without them.”  
“In that case, you better take a leaf out of Mr. Novak’s book and start hitting the library. And tuck your shirt in, boy, for God’s sake. We’re a respectable learning institution, not a brothel.”  
Dean’s smile grows cheeky, but he complies, making a show of tucking his shirt into his pants, only to untuck it as soon as Mr. Douglas has sat down and is concentrating on something else. Cas watches him, feeling personally insulted at this blatant disregard for school rules. Dean catches his eye and winks, Cas scoffs, affronted, and that’s the last exchange between them until the end of school.  
The bell rings, and Cas makes his slow way out to the parking lot to wait for his mother. He doesn’t see the silver Honda, so he sits down on a bench to wait for her. Minutes pass, and Cas gets impatient; it’s been a bad day, and he has a lot to do. He just wants to go home.  
The parking lot empties, and still no sign of the Honda. Just when Cas is about to call his mother to make sure she didn’t get into an accident or something, Anna finds him.  
“Cas,” she says, standing in front of him. “Mom’s stuck in a meeting. She wants you to walk home. So. Off you go.”  
“Where are you going?” he asks, gathering up his things and rucking his schoolbag over his shoulder.  
“To Cassie’s. I’ll be home by six. Not a word to mom, you hear? I told her I was going to after-school bible study.”  
“This school doesn’t even _have_ bible study!” Cas yells after her, but she ignores him, already running to her friend. Fuming, Cas sets off down the sidewalk, his bag digging into his shoulder and his arms aching under the weight of his usual four textbooks. It’s at least an hour’s walk home, more if he has this much stuff with him.  
He gets down to the first crossing before a black car pulls up beside him and the driver winds down the window.  
“Don’t you have a driver to come pick you up in your limo or something?”  
 _Dean Winchester_. Castiel’s temper finally snaps.  
“Are you stalking me, or something?” Cas blurts out angrily, spinning round. Dean looks taken aback.  
“No? Hey – no, wait!” he calls, because Cas has turned around and started stomping down the sidewalk again, away from this crazy no-good person who can’t even tie a tie right. Dean rolls the car easily beside him.  
“Hey,” he says out of the window. “Look, I’m sorry. I just thought… Look, you look pretty pissed off -,”  
“Yes, I am,” Cas interrupts, still walking. “And I don’t need someone like you making it worse. So go away and stop mocking me, please.”  
“I wasn’t _mocking_ you,” Dean insists. “I was just gonna ask you if you needed a ride. You know… all those books, and everything.”  
“Yeah? Well, try being less rude and maybe people would accept rides from you.”  
They’ve reached a red light. Cas stops, even though there are no other cars coming. Dean stops the car too.  
“I didn’t mean to be rude. Listen, I know you live out in the suburbs. That’s a while away. Are you sure you don’t want a ride?”  
“How do you know where I live?” Cas asks, surprised enough to stop being angry.  
“I know your sister,” Dean says. “Anna, she’s your sister, right?”  
“Why would Anna know a washout like _you_?” Cas bursts out incredulously. Dean actually looks _offended_.  
“Well, _now_ who’s being rude? Look if you don’t want a ride, fine, I’ll leave. Sorry for caring.”  
“Good.”  
“Fine.”  
The lights are still red. Dean turns his eyes back to the road. Cas glares straight ahead. There is complete silence except for the barking of a dog and a few birds singing; the school is pretty much in the quietest town there is. His shoulder is already aching, and the books are really getting heavy. He’s only been walking for five minutes.  
The light turns green.  
Dean starts to move.  
“Wait!” Cas shouts, running up behind the car. “I changed my mind, I’m sorry.”  
Dean stops the car, and leans over the passenger seat.  
“You want a ride after all?” he asks, and Cas doesn’t like the mischievous glint in those green eyes, not at all, but his books are really, really heavy.  
“Yeah. Please.”  
Dean smiles, and opens the passenger door.  
Cas gets in.

How bad can it be, right?


	2. Chapter 2

This is the worst idea Cas has ever had.  
It’s not that Dean is a bad driver. It’s just that he’s going at _least_ five miles an hour above the speed limit, he keeps fiddling around with the radio, and when he asks Cas what kind of music he likes, he actually _takes his eyes off the road._  
“Um, I don’t know. I like a lot of classical music, I guess?” Cas bites out, staring at the road because Dean is glancing at him again.  
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do. You sit in your little white room with your blue bedsheets and listen to Bach, right?”  
Cas cracks a smile at that, even though he’s still holding onto the door for dear life.  
“Chopin, actually. My mom listens to hymns and stuff in the car, I like a few of those too.”  
Dean nods. “Yeah, hymns can be pretty. You ever heard of AC/DC?”  
“What’s that?”  
“Oh boy, are you in for a treat,” Dean grins, and then he rummages around in the side compartment and throws a cassette into the player. A heavy beat fills the car, a guitar, and a voice that sounds like twenty cigarettes an hour. Cas has probably heard this song before, in a store or the few times his mom has listened to the radio. Before she changed the station.  
“I’m on a highway to hell?” Cas quotes dubiously. Dean winks at him.  
“Bet your momma wouldn’t like that.”  
“No,” Cas says slowly. “She wouldn’t.”  
But _he_ likes it. He can find the rhythm pounding along in his heartbeat and he can feel his spirits lift a little when Dean sings along. Gosh, Cas is almost surprised at himself. He even feels a little light-headed. Maybe he should have had lunch.  
“Hey, you hungry?” Dean asks suddenly, as though he can read Castiel’s mind.  
“Uh,” Cas stalls even as his stomach gives a huge rumble. “I really should be home by four.”  
“Ah, come on,” Dean says dismissively. “It’s only three-thirty, there’s plenty of time. Come on, I’ll buy.”  
“I really shouldn’t…” Cas begins, but Dean has already pulled into a Dairy Queen and cut the engine. Apparently his worry must show on his face, because Dean says, “Look. I swear to God it won’t take long. We’ll order, we’ll eat, in and out in under fifteen minutes. I promise.”  
And finally, Cas’s hunger wins him over. He nods, Dean smiles, and they both get out of the car.  
“They do these _great_ smoothies here, I’ll get you one, they’re – oh, hold on,” Dean interrupts himself just before they enter the building. He locks the car from where he’s standing and gestures over his shoulder. “My, uh, my dad would kill me if that got stolen.”  
He says it lightly, as a joke, but Cas can sense something heavier underneath it. Not that he cares, or anything.  
“It’s your dad’s car?” he asks as Dean holds the door for him. Their shoulders bump as they walk through. Not that Cas is thinking about that, either.  
“Yeah. I’m allowed to have it most days, to get me and Sammy to school, you know.”  
“Doesn’t your dad ever need it?” Cas is amazed. His mother won’t so much as let him unlock the Honda, never mind letting him _drive_ it. He can’t imagine what it would be like to be allowed to have the car as often as he needs.  
“My dad doesn’t really get much need for driving these days,” Dean says, and there’s definitely something bitter in his tone now. Cas decides that the most prudent thing to do is ignore it; he makes a mental note to put Dean’s father on his prayer list tonight. They get their food – two portions of fries and two smoothies, mango for Cas and strawberry for Dean – in silence. It’s only when they’ve found a place to sit that Cas thinks of something to say.  
“Where’s Sam?”  
“He’s with his girlfriend,” Dean replies, clearly relieved for a change of topic.  
“I didn’t know Sam Winchester had a girlfriend,” Cas says, surprised. He doesn’t actually know much about Sam Winchester, except that he’s a quiet kid three grades down who got incredible marks on his finals last year. You don’t really hear much from Sam. Not like his brother.  
“Yeah, no, he thinks I don’t know either,” Dean smirks. “It’s Jessica Moore.”  
“From Robotics?”  
Dean shoves four fries in his mouth at once.  
“Uh-huh,” he mumbles indistinctly, and swallows. “Vice president of Robotics. Christ, Sam won’t shut up about her. They think they’re being so secretive, sneaking around after school, but pretty much his whole grade knows. It’s just nobody cares. Hey, Cas, eat something.”  
Cas had almost forgotten about his food. It’s only when he puts the first fry in his mouth that he remembers how hungry he is, and then suddenly he’s shoving them in five at a time.  
“Look at you,” Dean laughs. “Thank God we stopped, huh?”  
“I didn’t eat lunch,” Cas mumbles through a mouthful, and wow his mother would have walloped him for that.  
“How come?”  
“I didn’t – I wasn’t hungry,” he lies. Dean raises an eyebrow but says nothing, taking a sip from his smoothie. He sticks his tongue out in the process, and Cas catches a glimpse of something metallic.  
“Hey!” he cries, pointing at Dean. “What was that?!”  
“Huh?” Dean looks at him, straw still in his mouth, and no, Cas isn’t looking at his lips right now.  
“Do you have a _tongue piercing?!_ ” Cas practically yells, getting up and lunging across the table. “Show me!”  
Dean just grins and flashes his tongue out, lightning quick.  
“No!” Cas’s fingers are on Dean’s bottom lip, trying to get him to open his mouth again. “No, show me!”  
“Polite one, aren’t you?” Dean says, but he rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out. Cas stares, completely in awe. It’s a black ball on a silver bar, and it just goes _right through Dean’s tongue_.  
“Wow,” Cas says, and then he has to sit down again. He can’t stop staring at Dean’s mouth now. “Did it hurt?” he asks in a hushed voice.  
“When I fell from heaven?”  
Cas kicks him under the table.  
“No! When you got that…” He gestures at his mouth. Dean shrugs.  
“Wasn’t too bad. Why, do you want one? I know a place. You can’t blow anyone for a month, though.” He’s grinning again, and Cas feels his stomach go a little tight. He’s blushing again, looking away from Dean’s face. He takes a sip of his smoothie – _oh, Lord, they really are good_ – and glares out of the window.  
“That’s inappropriate,” he hisses. Dean right out laughs.  
“Come on, Cas.” He nudges Cas’s foot with his own. “Don’t be so ashamed of a perfectly natural human act. Don’t they teach this kind of shit at Sunday school?”  
Cas shakes his head, feeling oddly mortified and flattered at the same time. Mortified for obvious reasons. Flattered because Dean is talking to him like they’re… like they’re _friends_ or something. Except God knows what his mother would say if she thought her son was friends with _this_ kind of person.  
He keeps sucking at the straw, even though he’s almost out of smoothie.  
“I’ll bet they teach you it’s shameful, too.” Dean leans across the table, resting his chin in his hands. Cas doesn’t look at him, because his heart rate has suddenly accelerated and he’s feeling nervous and excited all at once and for some reason he’s suddenly very aware that Dean has very, very green eyes.  
“Want me to tell you something they don’t tell you in Sunday school, Cas?” Dean asks, and his voice is so low now Cas actually shivers. He stops pretending to look out of the window, instead meeting Dean’s eyes and nodding. Dean gestures at him to come closer, so Cas leans in a little, setting the empty cup next to him. Dean leans in even further until his lips are right next to Cas’s ear. Cas can feel Dean’s stubble scraping along his cheek, can feel the heat pouring from him, and sparks are dancing all along his skin. He shouldn't be wanting more of it. He really shouldn't.  
“With the right person, it can be the best thing in the world,” he whispers, and then Cas feels those lips pressing gently to the side of his face, right in front of his ear. Cas lets out a little sound, completely involuntary, and turns his head towards Dean.  
“Bet you never kissed a guy before, have you?” Dean asks, pulling back, and his voice is like molasses and _why is Cas doing this?_  
He shakes his head, eyes dropping to half-mast and lips slightly parted. He wants to look Dean in the eye, but his glaze keeps falling down to those lips, plump and tantalizing and _right in front of him._  
“I- I haven’t really kissed anyone before,” he breathes. He swears his heart is about to beat right out of his chest because twenty minutes ago if someone had told him he would be sitting in a Dairy Queen, an inch away from kissing Dean Winchester, Cas would have laughed until he choked.  
Dean cocks an eyebrow up.  
“You want to change that?”  
It’s almost a purr, a _purr_ , and Cas thinks his head might actually explode with everything he’s thinking right now. Very, very slowly, he nods his head, and very, very gently, Dean closes the space between them.  
Dean’s lips are soft, warm, a little chapped, and it’s a very chaste kiss until Cas, going completely on instinct, timidly parts his lips. As if he'd been waiting for an invitation, Dean slides his tongue into Cas’s mouth, and _oh_ , he tastes like strawberry and salt, and it’s _good_. One hand comes up to brush his face, and then moves around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. At the first touch of the tongue ring against Cas’s palate, Cas lets out a soft moan into Dean’s mouth. His hand closes around Dean’s wrist, not to pull his hand away, but to keep it there.  
Dean pulls back, catching Cas’s bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a light tug, and Cas feels his jaw go a little slack. Dean gives him one more lingering peck, and then pulls back completely. His thumb is rubbing circles into the back of Cas’s neck.  
“Was that okay?” Dean asks, bumping their foreheads together. Cas is breathing fast, the blood rushing through his body. His eyes are still half-closed while his mouth is hanging open, and he’s staring at Dean like he can’t believe what they just did. He doesn’t really want to make his vocal chords work. His glasses are hanging a bit askew.  
“I’m not supposed to do that,” Cas croaks, leaning in again. Then the full force of what he just did smacks him right in the face, and he reels back, out of Dean’s grasp, gasping, “I’m not supposed to do that!”  
Dean looks unconcerned.  
“What? Kissing boys or kissing in general?”  
“Kissing boys! Kissing boys _in public! You_ -,”  
Cas is so angry all of a sudden he can’t even find the right words. He gets up, his fists clenched.  
“You _know_ I’m not supposed to do that! You can’t just… You’re not allowed to just… Just _do_ that!”  
Dean’s face is impassable. He watches Cas like he’s a mildly interesting TV show, eyebrows slightly elevated. The bastard doesn’t even look guilty.  
“Alright,” he says, getting up too. “I’m sorry. Come on, I’ll take you home.”  
Cas follows him out of the Dairy Queen. _He_ feels guilty, even if Dean doesn’t. Even though the few people sitting at the Dairy Queen booths don’t even glance at them, Cas feels like he’s got a flashing neon sign on his back. _This boy kisses boys! God disapproves!_  
He should just never leave his house again. Maybe he’ll burst into flame when he sets foot in church on Sunday.  
But oddly, Cas doesn’t feel so guilty because he let Dean kiss him. No, in truth, the reason he feels this awful is because he wants Dean to do it again. That has to be even worse, right? Not only kissing a boy, but _liking_ it?  
He gets the car door open, but before he can get in Dean slams it shut.  
“Hey!”  
“Who says you’re not allowed to do that?”  
Dean doesn’t sound angry, exactly, but he’s a little intimidating, crowding Cas back against the side of the car.  
“I, uh,” Cas replies. Intelligent. “I – God.”  
“God?” Dean repeats, sounding skeptical. “God doesn’t like it?”  
Cas nods, feeling his face heat up. If he’s not careful, his glasses are going to start fogging up. Dean is getting extremely close now.  
“God told you this himself, did he?”  
Cas looks away, not answering. He feels Dean’s fingers slide loosely under his chin and turn his head towards him.  
“Cas,” Dean muses, leaning in a little. Cas can’t stop staring at his lips. “Don’t you think the Almighty has more important things to think about than where you’re putting your mouth?”  
While Cas considers, Dean ducks his head to press his lips against Cas’s neck, brushing lightly over his pulse. Cas bucks a little, closing his eyes, because _yes_.  
“Does – does he?”  
“Mm-hmm,” Dean hums. The vibrations over his skin send goosebumps running up Cas’s back, making him grasp Dean’s forearms just for something to hold on to. This seems to please Dean, who leans back enough to look Cas in the eye.  
“So I’m sure you can kiss me again if you want to.”  
It’s crazy. He’s been talking to this guy for literally five seconds, and all his learned moral standings are already flying out of the proverbial window. They stare at each other for another few beats, and then Cas tugs at Dean’s forearms and leans in and they’re kissing again, hot and open-mouthed and insistent. Dean pushes Cas against the car, pressing their bodies flush together, and Cas has no idea what he’s doing except that he’s trying to touch every bit of Dean’s shoulders and back and chest that’s available to him. Cas has no idea how long they stay like that, making out against the side of the car, and the funny thing is he doesn’t even care. Dean’s fingers reach down to slowly untuck Castiel’s still-uncreased shirt, before sliding his hands around Cas’s hips, calloused fingers on bare skin. Cas tenses under his fingertips, just for a second, because he has never in his life felt something so intimate, and it’s both terrifying and incredible at the same time. Dean smoothes circles over Cas’s hips, kissing him hard enough to bruise, but Cas wants it all. He wants Dean’s hands all over his body, he wants Dean to rough him up and send him home a complete mess. So he’s not too happy when Dean breaks the kiss, his eyes flickering over Cas’s face.  
“You’re fucking adorable,” Dean breathes, reaching to loosen Cas’s tie. Cas doesn’t listen, too intent on getting his lips back on Dean’s, and Dean obliges for a while as his hands continue to undo the tie. Dean keeps kissing him until he’s got the tie off and the first three buttons of Cas’s shirt open.  
Then he bends down to start sucking and biting at Cas’s neck and shoulder, and Cas tilts his head back and groans, actually _groans_ , never mind that they’re in a dimming parking lot at –   
“Oh no,” Cas panics suddenly, pushing Dean away. “Oh no, Dean, what’s the time?”  
“It’s only five thirty,” Dean dismisses, trying to kiss him again. Cas pushes him back.   
“What? No! I’m late!” he cries. “I was supposed to be home two hours ago and you -,”  
“Okay, fine, sorry,” Dean says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Chill. Get in, I’ll take you home.”  
Cas doesn’t say anything in once they’re driving. Dean doesn’t either, so this ride is a bit uncomfortable. Cas can’t stop worrying about what his mother will say when he comes through the door over an hour late and looking like he just walked through a hurricane. With slightly shaking hands, Cas tries to straighten his glasses and smooth down his hair and tuck his shirt back in. He leaves the tie off, but he does do the buttons up again. Dean glances at him from the driver’s seat.  
“So why is your mom so strict about your curfew anyway?” Dean asks. Cas has an idea that it’s more to break the silence than because he actually cares, but talking might take his mind off how much his head is spinning.  
“I don’t know,” he says, looking out of the window instead of at Dean. “She just wants to know where we are, I guess. She likes having control.”  
“What about when you go see your friends or something?”  
Now Cas really can’t look at him.  
“I don’t have too many friends,” he mutters. Suddenly his hands have become very interesting. There’s a burn in his cheeks again; Cas hates himself for blushing so easily.  
“You’re kidding,” Dean says incredulously. “Do you ever leave the house?”  
Cas shakes his head.  
“What if I took you out?”  
Cas actually laughs out loud. The very idea of Dean, with his piercings and rumpled I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look, walking into his eggshell-painted living room and asking his mother if her son can go out with him, is so ridiculous that Cas is almost crying. Besides, he’s not even sure he should see Dean anymore.  
“Yeah, okay, maybe not,” Dean admits dejectedly while Cas laughs. The mood is considerably more relaxed after that, and it seems that all too soon Cas has directed them to his house. Dean at least has the sense to park a little way up the road.  
“Well,” he says as he cuts the engine. “We should do this again sometime.”  
“No, we shouldn’t,” Cas rejects instantly, falling right back into the defense. “You’re crazy, and I don’t know what kind of wild things you get up to on the weekends, so no, we shouldn’t see each other again.”  
This time it’s Dean’s turn to laugh. He literally throws his head back and lets out a howl of uncontrollable laughter, and Cas can’t help but smile a little as well.  
“ _I’m_ the crazy one?” Dean chuckles once he’s calmed down a little. “You look like you just dropped straight out of the Westboro’s family magazine, but _I’m_ the crazy one? Cas,” he pats Cas’s hand, “you are something else.”  
That’s what does it. That small touch to the back of his hand, coupled with the bemused sort of smile on Dean’s face as he says _you are something else_. Cas is suddenly breathless, very aware that Dean’s hand is still covering his. It’s such a simple gesture, it should be nothing compared to the things they were doing in the parking lot, but it strikes through Cas’s body like a hammer on an anvil. All of a sudden he wants to drag Dean into the back seat and do things to him that he’s _definitely_ not supposed to be doing.  
He snatches his hand back, terrified.  
“You okay?” Dean inquires cautiously.  
“Yes!” Cas says, way too fast. “Yes, I’m completely fine. Anyway, thanks for the ride and for the… the food. I’ll just -,”  
“Cas,” Dean interrupts, suddenly serious. “Was this too much for you?”  
“I - what?”  
“In the parking lot. I mean, I don’t really know you. I don’t know your limits. Was it too much?”  
“I don’t… I, um.” Cas flounders, desperately trying to express himself. “No. No, that was… fine.”  
“I wasn’t planning on it, or anything.” Dean looks suddenly uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. Cas is going to die. “But you’re cute, you know? You’re cute, and I wanted to get to know you. I didn’t mean for it to get that far. I’m sorry. If you don’t want -,”  
“I don’t,” Cas bursts out, which is a big fat stinking lie. “I mean, I don’t think it would be a good idea. It was nice but I just… I’d get into so much trouble.”  
“Fair enough,” Dean shrugs. Then he turns and looks Cas so dead in the eye that Cas thinks he might actually burst into flame. “But you know, Cas, sometime you’ll have to take control of your own life. Have a little fun sometime.”  
Cas stares for a moment, not knowing exactly how to reply. Eventually he settles for gathering up his stuff and opening the door.  
“Thanks, Dean,” he says once he’s on the safety of the pavement. Dean gives him a big, genuine smile.  
“Anytime, Cas,” he says jovially. “You be a good boy now. Don’t do anything _crazy_.”  
“Shut up,” Cas grouches, shutting the door and walking towards his house. He hears Dean laughing as the engine comes to life, and then both sounds fade into the distance.  
Cas sets his books down on the doorstep and is just about to open his front door when he sees Anna racing up the street, her bag banging against her hip. She reaches him, panting and hissing, “Wait, _wait_.”  
“Where did _you_ just come from?” Cas demands. Anna stares at him.  
“I could ask you the same goddamn thing,” she pants. “What’s up with your hair? And Cas – _Castiel Novak, is that a goddamn hickey?!_ ”  
“No!” Cas lies unconvincingly, one hand flying to his neck (where he swears he can still feel Dean’s kisses).  
“It’s a _hickey!_ ” Anna all but yells, trying to force his hand away. “Who gave it to you? Why are you so late? _Cas_ -,”  
“Anna, let me go!”  
“No! Who’s been sucking your neck?!”  
“Nobody, I swear – Ow! _Anna that hurts!_ ”  
“Show me!” she shouts, trying to wrestle his hand away.  
“No!” Cas shouts back. His sister’s got him in a headlock, and he’s not exactly sure what she wants to achieve with that, except perhaps strangulation.  
“Anna,” Cas chokes, “I _swear_ , if you break my glasses mom is going to -,”  
“And _where_ ,” a voice says from behind them, “have you two been?”  
They freeze like a ridiculous sitcom, Anna with one arm around her brother’s neck, Cas trying to throw her off. Their mother taps her foot impatiently from the doorway.  
Anna lets go of Cas. They look up, glance at each other, and in Anna’s eyes Cas can see the ancient sibling promise; _I’m taking you down with me._  
Cas says, “Maths tutoring,” at the exact same time as Anna says, “Bible study.” Their mother does not look convinced.  
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, taking in Cas’s disheveled appearance and Anna’s flushed face. “Both of you. In the house. Now.”  
The twins glance at each other guiltily. Their mother stands aside to let them in, so Cas picks up his books and leads the way over the threshold.  
A good fifteen minutes later, Cas walks upstairs to his room after a lengthy lecture involving many _what kind of children_ s and _could just have called_ s and _you better put each other on your prayer lists tonight_.  
He sighs, pushing open his bedroom door. He should have known that getting in a car with Dean Winchester would mean trouble in some form or another. He just didn’t expect it to be this many forms of trouble.  
Absently he touches his neck, shivering a little when he remembers Dean’s mouth getting a little rough on him. It was too much, but oh, it was so good. Had he known kissing boys was this good, he would have done it years ago.  
Now there was a sinful thought if he ever had one.  
Cas strips off his clothes and heads to the bathroom, a towel around his hips. He figures he might as well get in a shower before dinner, to try and wash off all this... confusion. In the bathroom, he glances in the mirror. And then he does a double take.  
Dean _has_ left a mark. A red bruise is showing just at the junction of Cas’s neck and shoulder. Cas stares at it in the mirror, pressing it to see if it hurts.  
 _Sometime you’ll have to start taking control of your own life._  
The words run through Cas’s head as he runs the water and gets in.  
Maybe they should do this again sometime.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes Cas a really, really long time to admit it. He doesn’t acknowledge it when Dean catches his eye in World History and grins, or when Dean brushes past him in the hallway, or when they happen to bump into each other in the parking lot. He ignores it when he’s trying to get to sleep at night but can’t because he’s lonely and not quite sure why. He even ignores it when his dreams evolve into a series of him and Dean making out in the back seat of Dean’s car.  
But when Dean taps him on the shoulder in the lunch queue and says, “Hey,” with a look on his face that actually borderlines on _shy_ , Cas can’t deny it anymore.  
He, Castiel Novak, who goes to church every Sunday, who wears a gold cross around his neck, and who has never been out past six a day in his life, is crushing on Dean Winchester.  
And he is crushing _bad_.  
“Hello,” he replies, trying not to let this devastating realization show on his face. It’s been about two weeks since their little DQ incident, and Cas has done his level best to stop thinking about it.  
Needless to say, he’s failed miserably.  
“How’ve you been?”  
Dean’s voice is soft against the roar of the cafeteria, and Cas can _hear_ the smirk in it.  
“I’ve been… I’m okay. How are you?” Cas says, making a valiant effort to not look at Dean’s lips. Dean shrugs.  
“It’s been lonely,” he says. “I’ve missed you.”  
Cas actually scoffs.  
“Missed me?” he repeats. “How can you miss me when you barely _know_ me?”  
“Crazy, right?” The line moves forwards and Cas and Dean get their trays. “We should, though,” Dean adds as an afterthought.  
“Should what?” Cas asks. They both get their lunch (a cheeseburger, because on Tuesdays they always serve cheeseburgers) and go to get drinks.  
“Get to know each other,” Dean expands. Cas freezes in the middle of getting his bottled water.  
“Why do you want that?”  
“Why not?” Dean grins, getting a coke. “Come on, let’s eat this outside.”  
“There’s no tables outside,” Cas says uncertainly, looking around for his sister. Anna is, of course, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.  
“So we’ll sit on the ground. Let’s go,” Dean says, nudging Cas towards the door. Cas looks at Anna one last time and spots her smirking at him. The whole twin-telepathy is obviously lost on her; his mental _help me!_ is stoutly ignored as she turns away from him to talk to her friends.  
So it’s not like Cas has a choice, really.  
Outside is fresh, the remnants of late September wearing off, but it’s not too cold. There are less people out here, it’s less of a noisy feeding ground and more of a… picnic. Dean sits down on some grass next to the school building and pats the ground beside him.  
“Are we allowed to be here?” Cas demands. “Because if I want to be valedictorian, I’m not going to screw up my chances by-“  
“Relax, choir boy,” Dean interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Come eat your shitty burger.”  
Cas looks around as though a teacher is going to leap out of the bushes and give them both detention, before sighing and sitting down. As he does so, he catches Dean’s smell, Dean’s clean, gentle smell, that just fifteen days ago Cas had all over him. Forget butterflies; there are snakes writhing around in Cas’s stomach.  
“You can’t just boss me around like this,” Cas grouches. Dean just grins. Cas’s stomach twitches a little and he panics.  
“I’m sorry,” Dean says, taking a bite of his burger.  
“No, you’re not.”  
Dean swallows his bite and turns his head to look at Cas.  
“No,” he agrees. “Maybe not.”  
Cas expects him to smile, or wink, or just do something very _Dean_. What he gets instead is Dean staring at him with a strange sort of curiosity, and Cas can feel his face grow hot. He keeps his eyes on Dean’s face, determinedly staring him out, and he notices the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Dean’s eyes flick down to Cas’ lips, and for a fraction of a second, he thinks (hopes) Dean is going to kiss him. Then Dean looks away, down at where his hands are twisting in the grass. The moment is gone.  
“I’m not forcing you into anything, right?” he asks. Cas almost says _yes, you are,_ just because he's stubborn. But he sees Dean glancing at him, worried, and maybe a little… ashamed? His fingers are absently pulling out blades of grass, and he looks so genuinely concerned by it that Cas can’t bring himself to say it.  
“No,” he assures. “No, you’re not.”  
Dean lets out a breath and smiles.  
“What’re you doing this weekend?” he asks conversationally, taking another bite of his food. Cas remembers that he hasn’t eaten anything yet, and pulls a corner out of his burger.  
“This weekend? Nothing,” he says, putting the piece in his mouth. Really, his manners are awful when he’s around Dean. He should really get a check on that. “We have a test on Monday. I should study for that.”  
“So that’s what you’re doing?” Dean wonders, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. “Studying and being alone?” Cas nods.  
“Well, a friend of mine is having a party on Friday. Let me take you.”  
He says it so casually, Cas is almost sure he’s misheard it. A party? Somebody seriously wants him to go to a party? _Dean Winchester_ seriously wants him to go to a party?  
“I wouldn’t be allowed,” Cas says, which is true, and also a perfect excuse not to go.  
“So sneak out,” Dean suggests.  
“Are you serious?” Cas demands. “Dean, it’s almost like you _want_ me to get into trouble or something.”  
“Well,” Dean shrugs, looking so smug, “maybe I do. It’d do you good. Come on, Cas, I do it all the time.”  
“Yeah, well, you’re… You’re _you._ ”  
“I’m me? What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Dean’s getting a little defensive. Yeah, well, so is Cas. He’s annoyed now, that Dean doesn’t see just how crazy he is.  
“It means you’re… You’re insane! You do crazy, bad things and you don’t understand that I’m not supposed to be like that!”  
“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Cas.”  
“That’s not – I wasn’t –,” Cas splutters, so angry and flustered that he can’t even get his words out straight. Dean waves a dismissive hand.  
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll talk to your sister and we’ll work something out. We’ll get you out of the house, I promise.”  
Cas stares at him, dumbfounded. He won’t admit it, not to Dean, not to Anna, not to anybody, but there is a small, secret part of him that wants to go. That _really_ wants to go. He’s curious, okay? His mother has scolded him for his curiosity for as long as he can remember, and so he’s learned to contain it. But he really, really, wants to know what the wild kids get up to in the weekends.  
And okay, there’s a part of him that hopes that maybe he’ll get to kiss Dean again. So sue him.  
Instead of saying any of this, however, Cas flatly decides that, “You are _not_ talking to my sister.”  
Dean hums happily but doesn’t reply. Cas can feel himself getting riled up. Not at Dean, exactly. At himself. At his life, and his family, and at the fact that it’s so complicated and that he can’t even kiss somebody without hating himself for it.  
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” he almost yells. Dean looks at him with a grin, but behind the smile Cas could swear that he looks almost hurt.  
“Do you want me to?” Dean asks. Cas wants to say yes. He really should say yes. He should tell Dean where to get off and then go back to his life of going to church and not kissing boys.  
Cas doesn’t answer. Instead he looks at the ground and starts to rip bits of grass out of the earth.  
“Okay, Cas, tell you what,” Dean says, as though hit by a sudden strike of inspiration. “You come out with me on Friday. I’ll sneak you out of the house, bring you home before dawn, get you some water, and if you don’t like it, I swear I’ll leave you alone.”  
“Like a… a date?”  
“Do you want it to be a date?”  
Cas shakes his head. He’s going to have ripped out all the grass in his immediate perimeter if he doesn’t stop.  
“No. Then it’s not a date. We’ll just go to a party together as friends. Like normal teenagers. We’ll get a little drunk, dance a little, come home way too late. Think you can handle that for just one night?”  
Cas chews his bottom lip. He could get into so much trouble just for _talking_ to Dean, let alone sneaking out with him and getting drunk. If his mom found out…  
But then he thinks about all the friends he doesn’t have, all the things Anna has done without their mother’s permission and the twinge of unwanted jealousy that’s shot through him every time she tells her stories (even though she's never, so far as he knows, gone to an actual party), the string of offense at being left out of the whole teenager thing, and he thinks, you know what?  
Screw it.  
“Yeah,” he says, and Dean’s face lights up like a freaking Christmas tree. “Yeah, I’ll go.”  
“Awesome!” Dean beams, just as the bell goes. Cas makes to get up.  
“Wait, hold on.” Dean stops him by touching his arm. “Give me your phone.”  
A little distracted by Dean’s hand on his arm, Cas manages to get his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. Dean snorts.  
“Trust you to have an iPhone,” he teases, typing in what Cas assumes is his number.  
“What’s wrong with my phone?” Cas demands when Dean hands it back. Dean just smirks.  
“Nothin’,” he says. “C’mon, lets hurry our little asses to class. Can’t let you be late, now.”  
They pick up their (half empty since they spent their time talking instead of eating – Cas should really look into developing healthier dietary habits) trays and make their way inside again. Cas lets his eyes wander over Dean’s back as they walk, his broad shoulders that feel as strong as they look, and even for a fleeting second wonders what they look like without the shirt obscuring them. If he has as many freckles on his back as he has on his face.  
 _Oh, God, Castiel,_ he thinks to himself, feeling very hot. _What on earth has gotten into you?_

–

“What do you mean, ‘ _Dean Winchester gave me a call’_?”  
“Calm down, Cas,” Anna soothes, using her ‘I know I did something you disapprove of but I’m going to twist it so that you agree with me’ voice. “I’ve known him since, like, sixth grade. Anyway -,”  
“ _Sixth grade?_ Anna!”  
“What, Cas? Are you really so astonished that I can make friends with people from every clique? Anyway, he called me, and -,”  
“How on _earth_ did you keep that from me all these years?” Cas interrupts. They’re sitting in Anna’s bedroom that night after dinner, discussing the finer points of the Party Operation. ‘Discussing’ here meaning Cas freaking out and Anna being frustrated with him.  
“I saved his name as Andrew Pearson,” Anna dismisses with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, he explained -,”  
“The preacher’s son?”  
“- _he explained_ ,” Anna continues, raising her voice, “that you need to get out of the house at eleven pm on Friday night, because Dean wants to take you to a totally PG party with no drugs or alcohol at all. Is that right?”  
“Um, yeah,” Cas says, getting a little nervous. “Drugs?”  
“None at all. I guarantee you won’t see a single joint passed around.”  
“You’re talking like you’ve been to one of these things.”  
Anna stares at him for a full three seconds before she bursts out laughing. She laughs so hard that tears start to swim in her eyes.  
“Oh my God,” she gasps, wiping her eyes. “Oh my God, you really _do_ take after our mother. What the hell do you think I’ve been doing every time I sleep over at Jo’s? Do you honestly believe that we’ve been going over the finer points of the Old Testament?”  
“But… But doesn’t Jo go to Sunday school?”  
“Christ, Castiel, if you believe everything I tell our mother you must be seriously misinformed about my life. I told mom she goes to Sunday school so she would get off my back about her.”  
“So…” Man, Cas is having so much trouble processing this new information. He’s always known that Anna sometimes lied about where she was or what she was doing, but he never would have guessed that she was _that_ out of line. “So… you and Jo have been going to these kinds of parties?”  
Anna shrugs in a ‘well, what you gonna do,’ kind of way.  
“And… And you’ve snuck out before?”  
“Yep.”  
Cas has so many questions he wants to ask. _Why didn’t you take me with you? How did you manage to get past mom’s alarm system? Are you going to hell? What's it like being drunk?_  
“Anna,” he says hoarsely, feeling like his entire life has been a lie.  
“Yes?” Anna prompts expectantly.  
“Anna,” Cas repeats in a horrified sort of way. “What do I _wear?_ ”  
Anna gives him a pitying look.  
“We’ll figure that out on Friday. For now, let’s figure out how you’re getting out of here without being discovered. Also, he said you need to text him so he has your number.”  
Cas turns so red so fast it’s a surprise his head doesn’t explode. Anna watches him expectantly as he pulls out his phone and brings up the text. They both wait.  
“I don’t know what to say,” he says eventually. Anna rolls her eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t pop right out of her head.  
“Say anything. Say ‘hi, it’s Cas.’ Now get the hell out of my room, Cas, it’s late and I want to go to bed.”  
She ushers him out of her bedroom with flapping hands amidst Cas’s spluttering about _but I don’t know what to say what do I say I don’t text people._  
Anna doesn’t seem to notice, and within ten seconds, Cas finds himself out in the hallway with a door being shut in his face right in the middle of him blurting out, “But you’re the only one who -,”  
“Rats,” he hisses, stomping back to his bedroom.  
“Castiel?” his mother calls from downstairs. “Everything okay?”  
“Yes, mom,” Cas calls back. Once he’s back in the safety of his bedroom, he sits down on his bed and stares at his phone, chewing his bottom lip.  
He can do this. He can send a text message. This little series of 0s and 1s are not going to stand in his way of his one rebellious teenage expedition. After all, if Anna can get away with it, it can’t be so bad, right?  
Amidst all the nerves, there’s a little part of him that feels deliciously wicked as he types out “Hello Dean, it’s Cas,” and presses send. It feels a little like sealing a contract; he’s really going to do this. He’s really going to sneak out in three days. He’s really going to defy literally everything he’s been brought up to believe. He’s really going to go to an actual party.  
With Dean Winchester.  
He honestly can’t decide whether he wants to laugh or puke.  
As he anxiously waits for a reply, Cas changes into his pajamas. He gets off his pants and his shirt and then checks the phone. No reply.  
So he puts the phone back down and pulls on the soft gray t-shirt and blue pants that serve as his pjs. And then checks the phone again. Nothing.  
 _Okay, Cas, it’s been a grand total of three minutes. He’s probably busy not doing his homework or something._  
It’s only a good fifteen minutes later, after Cas and Anna have had an argument about who gets to use the bathroom, and after Cas has brushed his teeth, and after Anna has kicked him out of the bathroom because she needs to take out her contacts, that Cas sees Dean’s reply.  
 _Hey. What’s up, angel?_  
Cas turns out his light and climbs into bed, chewing his bottom lip.  
 _Nothing,_ he replies, his stomach a little tight. _Why are you calling me angel?_  
Send. This time Dean’s reply comes a lot faster.  
 _Sammy mentioned your name had a biblical context, so I googled it. Angel of Thursday, huh?_  
Cas isn’t blushing. He’s not.  
 _It’s not my fault._  
 _It’s okay. It kind of suits you, anyway_.  
Now Cas really isn’t blushing. At all. He just wants to hide his face in his pillow and grin like the massive idiot that he probably is, that’s all.  
His phone beeps again.  
 _You still up for Friday?_  
Yeah, Cas texts back, and it’s only a mild surprise that he barely even hesitates. _So long as there’s no drugs._  
Cas can almost hear Dean’s laugh in the reply.  
 _Don’t worry, angel, we’ll save the pot for next time. Anyway, you should go to sleep now._  
 _I don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of Algebra._  
 _Exactly. Sweet dreams, Cas._  
 _Night, Dean._  
Cas puts the phone down on his nightstand, along with his glasses. He really should sleep, but he feels so giddy and weirdly happy that he just can’t. Instead, he lies in bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what’s going to happen now. Are he and Dean friends?  
He thinks back to the parking lot, and shivers a little when he remembers Dean’s warm fingers stroking his skin, his lips sucking at his neck. He shouldn’t be thinking about that, it’s a sinful thought, but he really can’t help it. He feels his cock stirring at the memory and Cas suddenly feels like he just got slapped in the face with simultaneous crippling shame and screaming arousal.  
He tries to ignore it. He really does. But after turning over half a billion times, he has to admit that this particular hard on just will not go away. Holding his breath, he fingers the waistband of his pants, deliberating, and then, suddenly throwing caution to the wind, he bites, “Oh, what the hell,” and shoves his hand into his underwear.  
He jerks himself fast to the memory of him and Dean in the parking lot, Dean’s darkened green eyes, and bites his lip to stop the small moans that threaten to escape his mouth. He can’t help the whimper when he comes, though, or the panting that follows as he works himself through the aftershocks. Once he’s done, he stares at the ceiling without really seeing it, feeling like he’s drowning in the too-loud beating of his heart and the remnants of his orgasm ebbing away. He’s not imagining Dean kissing him gently as he winds down, curling around him and nuzzling his neck. He’s not.  
Oh, God. Cas is in so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what i'm doing, but that was chapter 3! Hope you enjoyed this late-night coffee-induced 1-am written blab :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. This took literally months to write, I'm so sorry.  
> Anyway, Cas' first party. Enjoy :)

Friday seems to take forever. Cas suddenly has a billion things he needs to do, and his classes seem endless. History in particular feels claustrophobic and stressful, even though for two of the remaining three days, Dean doesn’t come to school. Anna seems to be more distant than ever, barely saying a full sentence to him all day. Throughout it all, the impending party on Friday is looming over him like a final exam.  
So yeah, the week is dragging. At the same time, it seems, it’s Friday last period in the blink of an eye. Dean, once again, isn’t there, and Cas gets annoyed. The least the boy could do is _be there._   
By the time Cas gets to leave History, he's getting a little freaked. What if Dean was just kidding? He hasn't called or texted or even showed up the past week. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they should call it quits. And he should. He shout just go home, eat, pray, go to sleep. Maybe jerk off or something because he's been feeling really, really ... uptight the past few days.   
Cas can't really help but feel a little disappointed as he makes his way out of the parking lot. His mother's silver Honda is there, and he gets in the back seat to wait for Anna.   
"How was your day, Castiel?" his mother asks. Cas shrugs.   
"It was alright."   
"Did you see your sister?"   
"No."   
Cas stops talking after that. He's nervous, tense, and kind of excited. While they wait, he takes out his phone. After hesitating for a few moments, he brings up the chat with Dean.   
_Where are you?_ he types. Send. He stares out of the window, looking for Anna. Suddenly, he sees a flash of shaggy hair and a brown coat. It's Sam. Strange, Cas finds himself thinking, that the two look so different. Sam turns and catches his eye. He smiles, a really genuine, bright smile, and Cas can't help but smile back. Then a blonde girl whom Cas recognizes as Jess from Robotics comes up and taps Sam on the shoulder, and the smile he gives her is nothing compared to the smile he gave Cas. He feels a little pang in his chest as he sees the two kids walk out of the school gates, hand in hand.   
Cas is snapped out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes.   
_Miss me?_  
Cas rolls his eyes.   
_No,_ he types back. Liar. Cas is a dirty, dirty liar. _Just wondering._   
_Sure_ , Dean writes. _Sorry, I had some stuff to do. We're still on for tonight, right? Anna said she had a plan._   
Ignoring the slight jealousy that his sister has been in contact with Dean when he himself hasn’t, Cas frowns at "stuff to do."   
What kind of "stuff" could be more important than school? He was probably getting drunk or smoking drugs. Like all the other bad kids do.   
_I'm relying on that_ , Cas writes. Which isn't a lie. He personally has no plan.  
 _Great_ , Dean says. _I'll be outside your house at eleven, okay?_   
Cas is in the process of writing a reply when another message comes up.   
_You don't need to wear a tie._  
Cas wrinkles his nose, not appreciating the snark.   
_I wasn't going to_ , he types. Which is also a lie. He doesn't really know what to wear, to be honest. And damn it, now he's worrying about what to wear. Hopefully his sister can help.   
Speaking of, there she is now, running across the parking lot with her hair flying all over the place.   
"Sorry you had to wait," she pants, throwing herself into the backseat. She straightens out her uniform, which is for some reason very rumpled. Cas can't help but notice she looks a little... messy. Even for her.   
"What were you doing?" their mother asks.   
"Getting stuff from my locker," Anna says without missing a beat.   
Cas knows her well enough to tell when she's being truthful, and when she’s not. It's exactly when she speaks without pausing that she's lying. She only ever misses a beat when she's telling the truth, because then she's not paying attention. When she lies, she makes sure she doesn't mess up. She's got it rehearsed.   
She's lying.   
"What were you really doing?" Cas whispers. He's answered with nothing but a death glare as Anna angrily pulls her collar straight again.   
"Don’t you have something planned this weekend?" she hisses back. Cas shuts up. He's not risking a shouting match in the back of their mother’s car.   
The ride home is quiet and kind of tense, for some reason. Their mother seems angry, and Cas can't tell why. They pull up into the driveway, and it's as they all get out of the car that their mother says, "I spoke with the school today, Anna."   
Cas sees Anna stiffen. He takes a step back, waiting for the door to be unlocked.   
"Yeah?" Anna replies. She might be acting nonchalant, but Cas can tell she's nervous.   
"They said you got a C on your last Algebra test. They’re worried about your grades."   
Cas practically feels the breath of relief that Anna lets out.   
"It was a bad day," she shrugs. Their mother purses her light pink lips, unlocking the door. Cas makes his way past the two of them quickly, aiming to get out of the way before the yelling revs up. He just makes it to his room when his mother starts.   
"Do you _know_ how much I pay for your education?" she yells, and Cas shuts his door.   
He can still hear it, a muffled argument, but he tries not to listen. They try to stay out of trouble, him and Anna, because it's just easier. But they do slip up sometimes. Maybe that's why he's shaking in his sensible polished shoes at the thought of getting caught tonight.   
He sighs when Anna starts to yell back. Something about "You don't even know me, you don't know me or Cas.” Cas winces, knowing that she just walked into a very long, loud lecture.   
Cas hates this. He _hates_ it. The arguments have always gotten to him worse, more than the restrictions and the constant churchgoing and the endless praying. It didn’t used to be so bad, back when Michael and Gabe still lived at home, but they’re gone now, studying in separate universities. They only ever come home for Christmas.   
Trying to ignore it, Cas takes out his iPod and tries to listen to music, but somehow his music isn't speaking to him today, and he ends up watching random videos of cats on youtube. He’s just finished smiling at a kitten chasing her mother’s tail when there’s a knock on his door.  
“Yeah?” he calls, taking out one earbud. Anna steps into the room.  
“Don’t say ‘yeah,’ say ‘yes,’” Anna says, in perfect imitation of their mother. She grins at Cas, but he can see her eyes are a little pink and there are faint mascara trails down her cheeks.  
“Are you okay?”  
“What? Yeah, of course,” Anna dismisses, throwing herself down at the end of Cas’ bed. “Okay, so, here’s what’s happening. Mom has probably just exhausted herself, so we’ll be eating our perfectly nutritious and healthy dinner at around seven, and then she’ll be going to bed at eight so she can get up at six tomorrow to go to her Ladies of the Church club without having huge bags under her eyes. That gives us three hours to get you ready and sneak out of the house. You can’t risk the noise of unlocking the front door, so go out the back door and tape the lock so you can open and shut it easily. I’ll leave you some pjs in the downstairs bathroom so you can change as soon as you come home and pretend you’re just getting water in case you get caught. That sound good?”  
“I’m -,” Cas starts, but Anna cuts him off.  
“Good. Go finish your homework, I’ll find something for you to wear.”  
Cas does not know what might happen tonight, but as Anna keeps talking, he makes a pact with himself. No matter how much he drinks, no matter how much he may want to, Castiel Novak will _not_ kiss Dean Winchester tonight.  
He won’t.  
***  
Cas thinks he might actually throw up. The house is completely dark, and even the slightest noise has him flinching. Even the soft _click_ from opening the back door makes him hold his breath and glance upstairs.  
Everything’s silent.  
Cas takes a final deep breath and slips outside, gently shutting the door behind him. He half expects someone to come up to him and shout at him for being out after hours, or blaring police sirens, or something. He gets nothing except the sounds of the night, and come to think of it, he’s so rarely heard them.  
There’s a cat mewling somewhere in the neighbourhood, a couple of crickets chirping in his garden, and somewhere way in the distance he can make out a police siren. It’s so peaceful Cas can barely believe anything wild or loud could possibly be going on anywhere.  
Heart thumping, Cas makes his way round the house to his front gate. He has a knot of worry in his gut – what if they get there and Dean leaves Cas to fend for himself? What if nobody likes him? What if Dean turns out to be a jackass? What if he doesn’t show up at all?  
Then he turns the corner out onto the sidewalk, and there’s the black car, parked just up the road and out of sight of his house. Dean is leaning against the hood, playing with his phone. He’s wearing a faded band shirt and worn-looking jeans, and a leather jacket. Cas feels like his heart just did fifteen consecutive backflips.   
“Hey!” Dean greets when he looks up from his phone. “Got out all right, then?”  
“Hi,” Cas says, a nervous edge to his voice. “Um, yeah, it was fine. Nobody woke up. You look, uh…”  
Cas catches himself before he can say anything else, and feels himself blushing furiously. He drops his gaze awkwardly to the ground.  
“Thanks,” Dean grins. Then he sobers up a little and adds, “You, um. You too.”  
Cas cracks a shy smile at that, tugging self-consciously at his shirtsleeve. Anna had pretty much ripped through his entire wardrobe trying to find something that wasn’t white button-downs and dress pants. Eventually she’d found a pair of jeans right at the very back of the closet, and pulled out a black shirt (“It’s a button-down but it’ll have to do,” she’d said, sighing in resignation at her hopeless brother).  
“Do you wanna get going?” Dean offers, opening the car’s passenger door. Cas nods, getting in. He feels like he might puke, but there’s something incredibly thrilling about knowing he’s not allowed to do this. At all.  
“Nervous?” Dean asks as he starts the car.  
“A little,” Cas confesses. Dean pats him on the shoulder.  
“Don’t worry, you’ll be totally fine. I’ll be with you all the way.”  
Their eyes meet, and the touch on Cas’ shoulder lingers a second too long, and Cas starts to wish he didn’t have any stupid morals to keep to. Then Dean clears his throat and looks away, and they pull away from the sidewalk.  
“Where are we going?” Cas asks.  
“Oh,” Dean says, “I never told you, did I? It’s a party at my friend’s friend’s house. D’you know Charlie? Red hair, wears a lot of nerdy t-shirts?”  
“Yeah,” Cas says, because he’s seen Charlie hanging out with Dean a lot. She’s always seemed cheerful and energetic, which is funny because Dean more often than not looks grumpy. Cute grumpy. Actually, funnily enough, Cas suddenly realizes that Dean hasn’t ever looked grumpy when they’ve been together.  
“It’s her girlfriend’s party. Dorothy,” Dean explains, bringing Cas back out of his train of thoughts.  
“Habitat for Humanity Dorothy?”  
“Yeah, that’s the one.”  
Cas is silent for a moment.  
“I didn’t know she was a lesbian,” he says wonderingly after a while. Dean shrugs.  
“Most of my friend circle is some form of queer,” he says. Cas tilts his head to one side.  
“Are there a lot of queer kids in school?”  
Dean flashes him a grin.  
“You have no idea, Cas,” he says. “You can join us, if you want. Seeing as how you apparently like kissing boys.”  
Cas flushes a deep, hot red, and looks away. He won’t say it, he won’t, but the urge to kiss Dean again is rising with every passing moment in this car. Maybe Dean is wearing some kind of male-magnet cologne, or something, but it’s getting kind of intense.  
“Sorry,” Dean says, apparently seeing the look on Cas’ face.  
“It’s okay,” Cas says hurriedly. Then, after a second, he adds, “It’s true, anyway.”  
Dean looks at him, really looks at him, eyes flickering over his face and lingering on his lips, and Cas feels like his chest is going to explode. The pact he made with himself is starting to crumble a little at the edges.  
Suddenly (thankfully), Dean looks back at the road, and turns into a smaller street. There’s a house with different coloured lights, which Cas assumes is Dorothy’s, and there’s already quite a few cars parked along the road. A couple of people with red cups are hanging around outside the gate.  
“We’re here,” he says, parking the car. He turns to look at Cas and joyfully says, “Welcome to your first party!”  
***  
Cas can’t really describe it. There’s a lot of people, it’s hot, it’s loud, there’s alcohol, it’s… it’s…  
Well. It’s a party.  
Dean was lying, by the way. There are drugs. A small group has been taking alternating hits off a bong for the past half hour, and Cas can’t seem to stop watching them. It’s just so… not church.  
Charlie had come up to them the second they were through the door, carrying drinks, and since Dean took a cup, Cas figured he should take one, too.  
“It’s rum and coke,” Dean had said into his ear. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to, okay? I can get you something else.”  
“Uh,” Cas had replied, because apparently having Dean’s lips this close to his ear renders him incoherent. “No. No, I’m good.”  
Now the three of them, Cas, Charlie, and Dean, are squashed together on a couch and having an animated discussion about whether the Black Widow or Catwoman could kick ass better. Or rather, Dean and Charlie are having the discussion. Cas is kind of staring into space with a half-empty cup in his hands. He feels strange.  
“But _Scarlett Johansen_ ,” Charlie insists. “Look, I know it’s a cliché -,”  
“And a half,” Dean scoffs.  
“- but you cannot tell me Natasha does not kick ass.”  
Just before Dean opens his mouth to respond, Cas finds himself somehow forming an opinion before he’s even realized he’s talking.  
“I will by no means say that Catwoman could not handle her fair share of ass-whooping,” he says in a strangely absent voice, still staring into the distance, “but I’m going to have to agree that my affections stray more in the direction of Natasha Romanoff.” Cas turns his head to give Dean an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dean.”  
“Hell _yeah_ , Cas!” Charlie whoops. “Come on, up high!”  
Dean is staring at them both with a look of incredulous shock.  
“Unbelievable,” he grumbles. Charlie just grins.  
“Well, it’s been a real pleasure hanging with you nerds,” she says as she gets up, “but I haven’t seen Dorothy around for a while, and I should probably go hang out with her a bit. You know. Considering how she’s my girlfriend, and all.”  
She touches Cas on the knee and says, “Nice to meet you, Cas,” before winding her way through the dancing drunk people. Dean scoots up closer, so that his knee brushes Cas’. Cas glances down and swallows.  
“How’re we feeling?”  
“Spaced out,” Cas replies, because it’s true. He feels oddly loose-limbed, and strangely heavy as though he could easily fall asleep. He doesn’t want to sleep, though.  
“I want to dance,” he says, and then he stands up – a little unsteadily, admittedly, but he’s sure that’s just because he got up too fast – and turns to Dean.  
“Dance with me.”  
“I think maybe you’ve had enough of that,” Dean says gently, tugging the mostly-empty cup out of Cas’ hands. It’s probably the alcohol, actually, that’s reason for Cas feeling like all his shyness has slid off him like a cloak. He feels invincible. Uncoordinated, perhaps, but _indestructible._  
“Dance with me,” he says again, tugging at Dean’s arm, and this time he follows. They make their way to the other people dancing, through a haze of smoke that smells kind of funny, and Cas feels warm. He forgets that he actually can’t dance. He forgets that he cares, because right now the bass is reverberating in his chest, making him want to move, making him want to do all sorts of things.  
“You ok, Cas?” Dean asks, speaking up in order to be heard over the noise. Cas nods, bouncing to the music. It’s something fast and upbeat, and after a moment’s deliberation, Dean grins and joins him. People tap him on the shoulder, offer him their drinks, tell him he’s cute, tell him he should dance with them, and the whole time Dean isn’t too far away, making sure he’s okay.  
Cas isn’t sure how it happens. His sense of time is shot to ribbons by the sips he keeps taking from passing strangers’ cups, but somehow he ends up with his back pressed to Dean’s front, Dean’s hands on his hips. The slim space between them is hot and damp with sweat. Cas wants to press himself further into it, to feel Dean flush against him, so he lets himself fall back, tipping his head back so it rests on Dean’s shoulder. As he does so, Dean lets out something that sounds like a bit-back whimper, and it hits Cas like a freight train. He doesn’t care that Dean is bad news, or that he’ll get grounded for the rest of his life if he gets caught. He doesn’t care about his promise to himself: he needs to kiss Dean. Right now.  
He turns around in Dean’s embrace, but just as he leans in, Dean shakes his head. Cas tries again, but once again, Dean holds him off, hands moving from his hips to his shoulders.  
“Cas, it’s not right,” he explains, carefully keeping Cas at arm’s length. “You’re drunk.”  
Cas blinks, dazed. “I am?”  
The corner of Dean’s mouth lifts.   
“The room seem a little uneven to you?”  
Confused, Cas looks around. Now that he’s stopped moving, he is having trouble focusing on anything. The whole house seems to be swaying ever so slightly.  
“A little,” Cas nods. Dean pulls Cas closer, and Cas sighs, stepping forwards and wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle, just because he needs something to stabilize him. And maybe also because he wants to be closer. It’s strange; his whole body feels kind of numb, but there’s something in him screaming for contact. Anything. Even this hug will do.  
He nuzzles his face into Dean’s neck, noticing how he smells kind of like cologne and something that must be just Dean, because it’s earthy and warm and really nice. Without really thinking, Cas parts his lips against Dean’s skin, wanting to taste him on his tongue. Dean drops his head to Cas’ shoulder with a shaky breath. He’s moving them, swaying them slowly to the music. Cas has pretty much forgotten that there are other people in this place. Tentatively, he runs his tongue along Dean’s neck again, loving the warm salty taste of Dean’s skin.  
“Cas…” Dean mumbles weakly. The break in his voice gives Cas an odd thrill, making his head spin even more. He wants to hear it again, and he’s starting to get an idea of how to get what he wants out of Dean. He lifts his head until his mouth is against Dean’s ear, and whispers, “This is allowed, right? It’s not kissing.”  
He has no idea where this side of him is coming from, this lewd version of himself that he’d otherwise be completely shocked at. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but he can’t deny that he likes it.  
Dean lets out a long breath on Cas’ shoulder, before he pulls back completely, untangling Cas’ arms from around him.  
“I think maybe it’s time to go home, yeah?” he says, taking Cas by the hand. Cas wants to stay. If they leave, if they leave the music and the other people practically having sex around them, the spell will be broken and he’ll have lost his chance. He’ll have to go home, go to bed, alone. Who knows, maybe Dean won’t ever want to see him again.  
But Dean’s hand feels nice in his own, so Cas lets himself be led out. They stop on the way to tap Charlie on the shoulder and tell her they’re leaving, which proves to be a more difficult task than it should be, since Charlie and Dorothy turn out to be making out against the kitchen counter. Their goodbye turns hasty, followed by Charlie exclaiming, “Oh my God, Dean, _leave_ ,” and throwing a dishtowel at him when he deliberately extends the exchange. Dean pulls Cas out of the house, laughing.  
“How’re you feeling?” Dean asks, once they’re outside. It’s so quiet once they shut the door behind them; there’s only a dull thud of the bass, and a few people are standing around chatting or smoking.  
“Sleepy,” Cas replies, because he is. He feels like he could drop to the floor and pass out. “There’s a weird taste in my mouth,” he adds, frowning.  
“It’s probably bedtime, huh?”  
“I think so.”  
“Okay. Let’s get you to the car,” Dean says, and his eyes are so _gentle_ Cas swears he could get lost in them forever. Which is probably why he’s standing there staring at Dean’s face for probably way too long.  
“Are you supposed to be driving?” Cas asks once he’s gotten himself into the passenger seat. It’s odd, trying to move when he feels like this. It’s like his limbs aren’t listening to what he wants them to do.   
“I’m okay,” Dean says, fishing his phone out of his back pocket and starting to text someone. “I only had the one drink at the beginning, and that was hours ago.”  
The _hours ago_ doesn’t really register with Cas, since he’s too busy staring at Dean’s phone.  
“What’re you doing?” he asks, and oh. He’s actually slurring his words properly now.  
“Texting your sister to get you up the stairs,” Dean grins, locking the screen and shoving the phone back in his pocket. “I doubt you’re gonna make it to bed on your own like this.”  
Cas can’t really disagree, so he just stays quiet. Dean starts the car, and soon they’re driving through dark streets.  
“Did you have fun?” Dean asks.  
“Yeah,” Cas says, a slow smile spreading over his face. “I liked it. I didn’t know I could dance. I like Charlie, you know? And Dorothy, and her house. I like you, Dean.”  
Dean glances at him, and Cas swears there’s a hint of sadness in his expression.  
“Sure you do,” he says softly.  
“I _do_ ,” Cas insists, frustrated that Dean isn’t listening to him. “I had fun.”  
“You wanna do it again one day?”  
“Yeah. Yeah,” Cas nods vigorously. “I don’t care if I get caught now, you know? It doesn’t matter…”  
He babbles on, not completely certain what he’s talking about, but Dean listens to him and starts to laugh when he starts to make absolutely no sense. It seems like five seconds until they pull up on Cas’ road.  
“Well,” Dean says as he kills the engine. “Here you are.”  
He turns to look at Cas, who is staring at him with a totally spaced-out look on his face.  
“What?” he asks, a bemused smile creeping over his face.  
“Kiss me goodnight,” Cas says, the words spilling out of his mouth, ungraceful as water. Dean deliberates, before leaning over and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Cas’ cheek.  
“Kiss me properly,” Cas whines, and Dean grins.  
“Not tonight, Cas.”  
“On Monday? Kiss me on Monday.”  
“Ask me on Monday,” Dean says, “and I will.”  
His eyes flicker to the sidewalk outside, and he adds, “Your sister’s here.”  
Sure enough, one second later Anna opens the passenger door, in her pajamas and bare feet.  
“You two have fun?” she smirks, looking at Cas’ rumpled look and happy smile. “You better not have driven drunk, Dean,” she adds sternly. Dean puts his hands up.  
“Absolutely not. Sober as a rock, I swear,” he insists. All the talk is really confusing. Cas just wants to fall asleep in the car, right there.  
“I’m tired,” he yawns. Anna grins and helps him out of the car.  
“Say goodnight to your friend, Cas,” she says, nudging him in the side.  
Cas offers a sloppy wave in Dean’s direction.  
“Goodnight, Dean,” he says. “Thanks for the party.”  
“Goodnight, Cas,” comes the reply from the driver’s seat. “See you Monday. Text me when you’re in your room, ok?”  
“Will do,” Cas promises.  
“Night, Dean,” Anna throws over her shoulder, and she closes the passenger door.  
“Come on, you,” she says, pulling Cas’ arm over her shoulder and helping him to walk.  
Cas isn’t sure how they manage to get through the back door and up the stairs and into his room without making a ton of noise, because his limbs don’t seem to be working at all, and he kind of needs to pee, and also he had to ask Anna something which for some reason pissed her off and made her hiss, “Shut the hell _up_ , Cas,” while they were making their way up the stairs. She makes him brush his teeth, hands him a bottle of water, and sends him to his room like he’s five, throwing his pajamas from downstairs into the room after him.  
Cas struggles out of his clothes and into his pajamas. He takes off his glasses and drops them unceremoniously on his nightstand, and then stretches out in bed, feeling completely and utterly exhausted.  
He feels around on the bed for his phone, and it takes a few times to get his screen lock combination right, but it’s okay. He brings up Dean’s conversation and types out, _Heyy. Got to bed._  
He thinks he might have misspelled a few things. That’s also okay, he’s sure.  
He gets a reply within a few seconds.  
 _Good. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Night, angel._  
Cas grins, throwing an arm over his eyes. This is a dream, he’s convinced, because Dean is being too cute for real life. And on Monday, Dean will kiss him.   
Cas puts his phone next to him on the bed, and turns over on his stomach.  
He’s asleep in seconds.


End file.
